


The Ward

by fishkybuns



Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:32:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishkybuns/pseuds/fishkybuns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place in an alternate timeline of 1984, where Biff Tannen has become rich and corrupt the city of Hill Valley.</p><p>Before Marty and Doc ever met, Biff Tannen had his 15 year old step son Marty McFly put away in a Psychiatric Ward, sick of dealing with his violent outbursts.  He's lived the past year in this hell hole, being abused and manipulated.</p><p>Doctor Emmett Brown has lost most of his family fortune at this point, and decides to apply for a night time job at the Hospital, being assigned to one of the most difficult patients that no one else wants to deal with; Marty McFly.  The two click right away, but Marty is still dealing with his troubled past and present.</p><p>NON-CON tags for Biff/Marty only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Doctor and his Patient

Doctor Emmett Brown followed along the seasoned hospital worker, his badge reading simply "Richards", whom he could tell had very little passion left for this job, if he had ever had any at all. He nodded and gave short "I see" and "I understand" answers as the other man guided him through the dank corridors that smelled of disinfectant and mildew on their grand tour.

  
  


They came to a stop however when they arrived at a large set of double doors. Emmett took notice of the locks on these doors. Three dead bolts as well as a number pad wired to the door.

  
  


"And this is where you'll be working, Doctor. This is where we keep the real crazies." The man spoke over his shoulder as he fiddled with the over populated key ring on his belt. "There's only a handful of patients in this wing, but they require near constant care or supervision. So we like to assign one hospital staff to one patient. You my friend, aren't so lucky with your pairing." He shook his head and laughed a little, tapping a few numbers in on the number pad and finally opening the doors.

  
  


Emmett wasn't really surprised. He was informed he would get the job with his limited medical credentials, however he would be required to take one of the more difficult patients in the hospital. Although he didn't know much about the patient, aside from his name and a few basic facts.

  
  


Martin McFly, sixteen years of age. Step son of the Biff Tannen. He had been hospitalized over a year ago for depression, severe anger issues and violent outburts. He is considered a danger to himself and others.

  
  


"Yes. I hear that this Martin McFly has caused you all quite the problems." said Emmett as the worker handed him a clip board with various door codes and patient information on it's pages.

  
  


The man laughed again, this time quite loudly. "That would be putting it lightly, my friend. This kid has chased off just about every doctor and nurse we throw at him. No one lasts for more than a week before asking to be reassigned." the man spoke as they continued down the hallways, nearing their destination. "If he ain't in his jacket he's quite the scrapper. And he sure as hell don't fight fair. He's a biter an a spitter. But I'll let the rest be a surprise for ya. Wouldn't want to scare ya on your first day."

  
  


Emmett wasn't impressed with the orderly. He was unprofessional and just down right annoying. However he kept his thoughts to himself. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat as they stood outside his new patients door. It was a sturdy door with a window in it for peering in, and outside was an old looking wheel chair.

  
  


"Alright, here it is. I'll introduce you. Now, he don't talk much, if at all. I ain't heard of him talking to no one in months. He's restrained so he can't hurt himself or take a lunge at you or me. It is almost time for his medication though, so he ain't gonna be too sedated." He plunged his key into the door and turned it, then handing a ring of keys to Emmett. "And these are for you. Don't lose them." Emmett took them and dropped them into the pocket of his trousers.

  
  


The heavy door pushed open with a slow creak, revealing the small white room behind it. The fluorescent lights hummed and made the pale room glow an almost a blinding white. There was only a chair, table, stainless steel toilet, locked cabinet and single bed within. Emmett winced for a moment, before setting his gaze on the lithe figure upon the bed that laid with his back to the door. The boy didn't stir however, simply laying there. He was wearing a thin cotton dressing gown with a thick straight jacket over it and a pair of gripped hospital socks. Breathing could be seen though, so Emmett wasn't alarmed.

  
  


"Alright, McFly!" Richards barked, striding over to the small boy and grabbing him by the straps of his straight jacket, pulling him up. A small grunt escaped the boy. It appears he was sleeping heavily before. "I brought your new attendant buddy. Now you be nice to this one, ya hear?" He grabbed the boys chin and forced him to look towards Emmett. "That there is Doctor Emmett Brown. We brought him in just for your sorry ass." He spoke slowly and condescendingly to the young boy.

  
  


Emmett frowned at the rough treatment of the boy. If everyone treated him this poorly, he wasn't surprised that Martin acted out in a rebellious fashion.

  
  


"Say hello to the doctor, you little shit!" The man barked again, pulling Marty's hair sharply and quickly, Marty wincing and gritting his teeth angrily at his assailant. Marty was about to do his best to retaliate when something boomed through the room, surprising him.

  
  


"That's enough!" Emmett spoke authoritatively, his strong voice carrying through the under furnashed room. "As of now Martin McFly is my responsibility and I am in charge of his well being. So I will ask you only once to remove your hands from him this instant and cease your abusive behavior."

  
  


Richards sucked his teeth, releasing the boy and letting him fall back against the bed. "Whatever, Brown." He stepped away from Marty, clearly annoyed with Emmett. "But I bet you won't be defending this little freak by the end of the shift. Have fun." And with that he made his leave, mumbling to himself and locking up behind him.

  
  


Marty was sitting up on the bed, his torso restrained by his straight jacket. He looked up curiously at Emmett. No one in this damned place had ever treated him with any sort of respect before, or defended him from the assholes who tormented him.

  
  


"Th--thank you." He spoke softly, averting his gaze to the floor. His voice was weakened and slightly slurred, Emmett could only assume it was from the large doses of sedatives they pumped into him.

  
  


Emmett was taken aback, being told Marty wouldn't talk to hospital workers, as well as how polite he was being. This was not at all as he had been described to him.

  
  


The doctor shook his head. "No need to thank me. I'd be a monster to let him treat you like that, Martin." He flashed a genuine smile when Marty looked up at him.

  
  


". . . Call me Marty." the boy spoke, returning the smile.

  
  


Doctor Emmett Brown nodded and then focused his attention to his clipboard, rustling through a few pages of information for Marty.

  
  


"It seems it's time for your medication, Marty." He said, placing the clipboard down on the small table, fishing his keys out of his pocket and began working on the padlocks of the large cabinet.

  
  


Marty frowned at this. "Oh, I see." He sounded disappointed. "You're just going to sedate me like all the others? For a second I thought you were different." he looked down at his feet and appeared to be hugging himself within the straight jacket.

  
  


Emmett turned to him. "Sedate you? No, I'm just going to give you your medication. Sedation is only for emergencies or if you begin to feel anxious. That's what your orders say."

  
  


Marty scoffed. Emmett felt a bit uneasy, worried that he was losing the trust they were building.

  
  


"Doc, they don't give me any god damn medication that isn't a sedative! They just keep me doped up all the time since I fight their fucking abuse!" The young boy spat.

  
  


"That can't be completely true--" Emmett spoke to himself lowly as he opened the cabinet, stopping short when he read the labels of all the medication. The cabinet was filled with sedatives. Strong ones, too. "Oh . . . " He trailed off.

  
  


Marty watched him, thinking again that he could still put his trust in the doctor. He was definitely different from all the others that worked in the hospital, that was very clear. There was something about the man as well. He made Marty feel a sense of ease.

  
  


"There's nothing wrong with me, Doc. My dad . . . My step dad put me in here. He's a jerk who beats on my mom and he . . . Well, let's just say after getting into I guess one too man fist fights with him, he decided to put me in here." His expression was filled with hatred and sorrow.

  
  


Emmett frowned, feeling greatly empathetic towards the boy. He turned back to the cabinet and locked it. "I'm not going to sedate you, kid." He paused, thinking. His long legs carried him to the chair, where he took a seat. Marty looked up at him.

  
  


He returned his stare, looking the boys face over. He never normally felt any sort of connection with a person, being a bit of an outcast. But there was something different about this Marty McFly. He felt the urge to protect this boy.

  
  


"Marty," he began. "I want to trust you, I feel like I can. When . . ." He trailed off for a moment, considering his words carefully. "When was the last time you were out of that straight jacket?"

  
  


Marty shifted on his bed, his expression softening. "They take it off once a week when they give me my baths. They always sedate the shit out if me for that though. But I haven't had it off other than that for months. They don't even let me feed myself."

  
  


The doctor frowned, thinking of how thin the boy was and how they probably didn't feed him properly either.

  
  


"I can take it off." he said simply.

  
  


Marty chewed on his bottom lip. It sounded so nice, but . . . "Doc, I wouldn't want you to get in any trouble." he said meekly.

  
  


"But you wouldn't give me any trouble, would you?" he smiled softly.

  
  


Marty immediately shook his head. "N--no. You wouldn't try to hurt me, so why would I?"

  
  


Doc continued to smile as he reached towards Marty, who flinched in response as a reflex.

  
  


"It's alright, Marty. I'm here to take care of you." He said in a sweet reassuring tone, taking hold of the belts of the jacket and undoing the first several buckles.

  
  


Marty avoided eye contact for a moment, feeling this was all too good to be true. His face flushed lightly and he smiled. "Thanks."

  
  


Once the belts were all unfastened, Doc peeled it off the boy. He could smell the musky body odor that clung to the fabric. They clearly did not take care of this boy properly.

  
  


Upon having his arms freed, Marty stretched his arms long and hard, groaning in pleasure. "Oh my god . . . I forgot how good stretching felt." He purred the words.

  
  


"Would you like to have a bath?" Emmett asked bluntly.

  
  


Marty laughed. "Ah, I guess I probably don't smell that great, huh?" He flashed a toothy grin at the doctor.

  
  


"Well . . . No. But I thought it might make you feel better too. I can bring your dinner after as well, if you'd like." He gave a reassuring smile and patted Marty on the thigh.

  
  


"That sounds really nice actually. But uh. I think I'll need your help. I'm still pretty weak feeling from the drugs . . . I don't think I can bathe myself too well." His expression was an embarrassed one.

  
  


"That is my job after all. I'll get your wheelchair from the hall."

  
  


Before leaving the room, he glanced at one of the pages of his clipboard, a map. After locating the washing facilities, he unlocked the large door to obtain the rickety wheelchair.

  
  


He gingerly helped Marty into it, who appeared much weaker physically than Doc initially thought. He tussled the boys greasy hair before wheeling him out of he room and down the hallways towards the bathing room.

  
  


They moved along in silence until they arrived to the room. Doc pulled put his keys and after identifying the proper key he opened the room up and flipped the light on. He pushed Marty inside and shut the door behind them, locking it. Even though he trusted Marty, he still had to follow the rules of the hospital.

  
  


Marty sat in his wheelchair and watched Doc as he twisted the nobs of the tub, feeling the water to make sure it was a comfortable temperature. He smiled to himself, feeling a happiness he hadn't in as long as he could remember. He found himself admiring the man physically. He had a strong handsome face, even if he was a bit old. His hair was wild and disorderly, and Marty found it wonderfully refreshing. 'I guess it's been a long time since I've seen a girl if I'm checking out this old dude.' Marty thought to himself, amused.

  
  


Doc placed the plug in the drain allowing the tub to fill with warm water and began gathering the needed toiletries for bathing his patient. Soap, a soft sponge, shampoo and a clean towel. After placing everything on the rack next to the tub, he turned to the silent boy.

  
  


"Do you need help getting into the tub?" Emmett asked gently.

  
  


"I think so, yeah." He started to unbutton his hospital gown, and Doc approached to help him with his socks. Marty felt a blush build up in his ears.

  
  


Marty let the gown slide down his arms and torso, revealing his thin and bruised body. Doc frowned at the sight, feeling sorry for the boy and leaned down to scoop Marty up and lift him out of the chair with ease. He was very light for a boy his age.

  
  


He gently lowered him into the water, Marty hissing in pleasure at the feel of the warmth. Doc grabbed the sponge and began wetting the parts of Marty's body that wasn't submerged, coaxing soft coo like sounds from the young boy.

  
  


"Feels nice." He said simply, closing his eyes and relaxing against the tub.

  
  


Doc smiled and reached for the soap, applying it to the sponge. He began positioning Marty's body so to scrub him free of dirt and grease. He allowed himself to take in the vision of the young boy's body for a moment. Despite the bruising and thinness, he had a very desirable shape. Doc kept his gawking to a minimum though.

  
  


He wet and lathered Marty's hair thoroughly, carefully rinsing it as to not get any in his eyes. Marty sighed happily.

  
  


"It's nice to feel these sedatives wearing off, Doc. Feels like it's been forever." He looked at him with big blue eyes.

  
  


Doc felt a slight flutter on his chest. There was something about this boy he couldn't quite explain to himself. It was like . . . Lightning.

  
  


He shook off the inappropriate thoughts quickly. "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, Marty. What would you like for your dinner tonight? According to my papers there's a choice of either pasta or meatloaf from the cafeteria." He spoke as he reached into the soapy water to pull the plug from the drain.

  
  


Marty's face twisted in disguist. "Oh god, anything but this hospital's meatloaf. I mean, it's all shit. But I have no idea what meat they put in that loaf. And believe me, I use the word meat loosely."

  
  


Emmett laughed. "What's your favorite food then? Maybe I can sneak some in for you tomorrow."

  
  


Marty shook his head softly. "Doc, you're my angel." His voice was sweet as he looked up at the older man.

  
  


Doc's gaze lingered upon the boy's. Marty clearly picked up on it too as his expression changed, lips slightly parted, his brow knit.

  
  


The old man cleared his throat abruptly and grabbed for the towel. "So what would you like for dinner tomorrow night?" He said awkwardly as he began drying Marty's hair.

  
  


"I'd kill for a Pepsi and a cheeseburger, Doc."

  
  


Doc nodded with a smirk. "Consider it done. Just don't tell on me." He teased, persuading a smile from Marty.

  
  


He continued to dry the young boy, placing the towel over the side of the tub and going into one if the cabinets in the room, pulling out a folded clean dressing gown. "Hm, no socks." Doc hummed, shuffling through the shelves to double check.

  
  


Marty shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Doc. My feet get hot anyway."

  
  


"If you're positive. I'm sure I can find you a pair later, if you change your mind though." He returned to the boy with the fresh gown, helping him stand and step out of the tub on shaky legs so he could drape the gown over the boys shoulder. Marty placed his hands on Doc's shoulders to steady himself as the older man fastened his buttons for him.

  
  


Emmett delicately helped Marty back into his wheelchair and they continued the route back to Marty's room. Once inside, Doc assisted the boy back into his bed and rolled the wheelchair into the corner of the room.

  
  


"Do you require anything before I go to get your dinner?" Doc asked, rustling through the papers of his clipboard once again.

  
  


Marty shook his head and pulled a thin blanket onto his bare legs. "I think I'll be alright, Doc. . . Don't be too long." He added in a timid tone. God it felt so good to have someone to finally talk to and feel comfortable with. He almost didn't want him to leave.

  
  


Doc gave a friendly nod and headed for the door, locking it up behind him. Marty listened to his foot steps slowly disappear down the long hallway.

  
  


He laid back on his bed against the flat pillow, sighing to himself. He looked at his hands for a few moments, examining them. He felt he hadn't seen them in a while. They were slightly shaky and his fingers more slender than he remembered. But they were nice and clean at least.

  
  


Marty slowly slipped his hands under his blanket, pulling up his dressing gown and taking hold of his flaccid member. He hadn't been able to touch himself in ages thanks to that damned straight jacket. He closed his eyes and pulled on it a few times, trying to let his mind wander to happier times, to pretty girls. But he was having a difficult time remembering anyone's faces. All he was conjuring up was fuzzy heads on fuzzy bodies and it wasn't working for him. He grunted in frustration and started to jerk himself off quicker, mumbling under his breath.

  
  


Then a clear face came to his mind. Doctor Emmett Brown. He felt his cock twitch and swell in his grasp, moaning softly to himself. He remembered the feel of the doctor's strong hands on his body from before. Remembered his manly scent from when he was held. He started imagining things that didn't happen. Kissing, groping, sucking.

  
  


"Fuck . . ." He muttered, slowing his pace to a stop. He felt he couldn't cum, his body still off from the almost constant stream of sedatives over the past several months. He sighed sharply and pulled his gown back down over his body, rolling over onto his side and hugging the cotton blanket to his chest. He let his mind wander back to his sexual thoughts of Emmett. He recalled the moment in the bathroom they shared. It was short and awkward, but Doc definitely looked at him in that kind of way. Or did he? Marty thought it could have just been in his mind, himself still being fuzzy from the drugs.

  
  


The sound of a squeaking cart and foot steps snapped him back to reality. The jingling of metal against metal was outside the door. Marty looked to the small window on the door to see Doc's crazy hair and part of his face. It caused him to smile.

  
  


Emmett let himself in, catching a glance at Marty, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

  
  


"I'm back." He announced, locking the door behind him once he at the cart were inside. "And I've brought you a surprise. They aren't available for patient meals, but I got one from the staff break room." He reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a shiny blue can.

  
  


Marty sat up and grinned. "Alright, Doc!" He exclaimed.

  
  


Emmett began transferring the tray of food and such to the table. "But I must insist you finish your dinner first. Having only sugar on your stomach could cause you to feel some bouts of nausea and diarrhea."

  
  


"You're the Doc, Doc." Marty said coyly as he slipped the blankets from his legs. Doc assisted him to the chair and handed him a plastic spoon.

  
  


Marty looked down at the plate of food. Macaroni noodles in what he could only assume was some kind of butter sauce. A small pile of peas, a cup of red jello and a plastic cup of water. Could be worse, he thought to himself.

  
  


As he ate, Emmett drew his attention to his clipboard, scribbling some things down.

  
  


Marty watched him, spooning the over cooked pasta into his mouth. "Whatcha' writin'?" He asked curiously, his mouth full.

  
  


"Just keeping track of your food intake, Marty. For your day shift caretaker."

  
  


Marty hummed, swallowing his food hard. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't read any of that stuff. You're the only one I've seen even using a clipboard, to be honest." He took a swig of water. "Their routine is pretty much the same thing every day with me. Shoot me up, shut me up, slap me up."

  
  


The boy spoke so matter-of-factly that it broke Emmett's heart. He wanted to do all he could to help this boy. But aside from making him more comfortable while he was here, he wasn't sure what else he could do for him.

  
  


Marty continued wolfing down his food. It somehow tasted better today. He considered maybe it was the company. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't drugged out of his mind being spoon fed like a small child. Marty preferred to think it was Doc.

  
  


"All done, Doc!" He announced, ready for his Pepsi.

  
  


"As promised." Emmett cracked the can open for the boy, placing it in his hand.

  
  


Marty brought the chilled can to his lips, feeling the bubbles of carbonation pop against the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, feeling the bubbly sweet liquid on his tongue, a surge of flavors dancing through his mouth. He let out an audible and pleasurable moan from his throat as he took a few large gulps, taking down half of the can before stopping, finishing off with a satisfied "Ah".

  
  


"That right there is just what the doctor ordered. Oh man."

  
  


Emmett watched him as he continued to savor his soda. The word "cute" crossed his mind. If this is how this boy is he couldn't fathom this mistreatment and abuse that he's been subjected to. However he was snapped back to attention with a long belch.

  
  


"Whoa, excuse me. Forgot how these things can get you." He let out a laugh.

  
  


The shift continued on into the night with long conversations and getting to know one another. Emmett rambled on about scientific interests to a surprisingly interested Marty, who deemed it sounded “Cool”, which inflated Emmett's ego a bit. Marty expressed his love of music, cars and skateboarding. All of which he greatly missed. Emmett made a mental note to bring some possible surprises over the next few shifts.

  
  


At some point, Emmett could see that the boy was fighting sleep.

  
  


"It's getting late, Marty. Why don't you lay down and get some sleep? I'll be back tomorrow night."

  
  


Marty gave a reluctant smile and a nod. "Y--yeah . . . Y'know, Doc. This has been the best night in a long time. Hell, maybe ever. It's like destiny brought you to me." He scratched the back of his head, feeling a little embarrassed.

  
  


Doc smiled and leaned forward in the chair he had been sitting in for the past few hours, patting Marty on the thigh firmly and giving it a squeeze. "I know what you mean, kid."

  
  


He looked down at the hand on his leg, and after a moment of hesitation placed his own on top of it, glancing up at the doctor, a shy smile on his lips. "Until tomorrow night, I guess." He spoke softly before reluctantly removing his hand and scooting down in his bed to lay down. Emmett pulled the blanket up to the boys torso where it was then taken by Marty, who hugged it to his chest. He let out a small sigh as he snuggled into his pillow and closed his eyes.

  
  


". . . Good night." Emmett brushed the bangs out of Marty's face and tucked it behind his ear, who in return let out a low sigh.

  
  


The doctor glanced at his watch and saw it was later than he thought. Only thirty minutes left of his twelve hour shift. He quickly gathered papers and scribbled in the last of his notes, focusing on the positive changes in the patient.

  
  


As silently as he could he exited the sleeping boy's room, locking up behind him, and made his way to the front of the building.

  
  


He stepped into the from office where he saw Richards and a few other staff members finishing up their shift as well.

  
  


"Hey hey, there's Mister Lucky!" The man sneered. "So tell me, how did your night go?" A few chuckles could be heard.

  
  


Emmett gave a professional smile and nod. "It went just fine, Mister Richards, thank you for asking. Is Martin's day caretaker in yet so I can give my turn over report?"

  
  


  
  


"Uh, yeah. He's in the break room I think." Richards replied, eying Emmett suspiciously.

  
  


Emmett thanked him briefly and made his way to the staff break room, where he saw one man pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was a large man, both in stature and weight. Emmett cleared his throat and the man looked over to him, taking a loud sip of coffee from his mug.

  
  


"Good morning, I'm Doctor Emmett Brown." He asserted, holding out his hand, which was ignored by the large man.

  
  


After a moment he retracted his hand. "I am Martin McFly's new night time caretaker. I'm here to give turn over."

  
  


"You're mighty chipper for someone who spent the last twelve hours with McFly. You end up getting into his stash?" He chuckled to himself. "Let me guess. You showed up, he spit in your fucking face, and you spent the rest of the shift reading while he laid in bed drooling from the sedatives. How close am I?"

  
  


Emmett shifted and cleared his throat once again. "Actually, that couldn't be farther from the truth. He acted very respectable towards me and was completely calm all night without the use of sedatives. I was able to remove his straight jacket and he fed himself." he kept it short and to the point, not going into their bonding for obvious reasons.

  
  


The large man raised a brow, snorting. "Little shit must be playing you to get your guard down. I guess he's not as dumb as I thought." He sipped at his coffee once more. "And you're telling me he's unrestrained in there?"

  
  


"He is sleeping right now, but yes, that is the case. I think with a little patience he'll be able to be without it all together."

  
  


The man laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Whatever you say, Brown. Thanks for the report." He said with a hint of sarcasm. "See you later." The man pushed past him, his shoulder bumping into the old man's. 

  
  


Emmett knew he would have a long twelve hours of worrying until tonight.


	2. Daddy Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty has a visitor while waiting for his new Doctor's shift to begin once again.

It had only been six hours since Doc left earlier that morning, and in that time things were already back to their normal ways. The straight jacket was back on, Marty's head was dizzy and foggy from the sedatives, and his face dully ached from getting slapped around earlier. He laid on his bed, back to the door as usual, trying his best to wait out the day for Doctor Emmett Brown to return.

  
  


He was slowly rocking himself back and forth in an attempt to comfort himself when he heard his door being opened. He ignored it.

  
  


"Wakey wakey, McFly!" The voice of his daytime caretaker bellowed through the small room. Marty didn't react and continued his gentle rocking.

  
  


"You still sore with me? Well I got a surprise for ya! I think you're really gonna like it. You've got a visitor on the way." His tone was very upbeat, which Marty found unusual.

  
  


He knew it couldn't be, but for a brief moment he thought it might be Doc. Then he realized it must be his mother. In the beginning of his incarceration she would visit him once a week. That quickly dwindled down to once a month. However lately she had stopped coming by all together. He didn't care though. She was awkward around him, always defending Biff and his actions rather than standing up for her own son. He began resenting her long before he was put into this place.

  
  


However he did flip over to face the door, struggling to sit up with his arms restrained by the straight jacket.

  
  


"Atta boy. He'll be here any second, someone is escorting him back." He spoke as he fumbled around in the cabinets, prepping a needle.

  
  


He? Did he say "He"? Marty's brow furrowed in confusion. That was until he caught a glimpse of his visitor through the door's small window. His eyes widened and a chill surged through his whole body.

  
  


It was his step father. Biff Tannen.

  
  


The door was unlocked by an orderly and swung open, Biff strutting in like he owned the place; which he did. Marty quickly scurried back into his bed pressing his back against the wall, his eyes fixated on his step father in disbelief. This was only the third time his father came to visit, and all previous visits had been awful.

  
  


Biff grinned that big stupid grin he always had on his face, pulling off his sunglasses and shoving them into his shirt pocket. He loudly chewed his gum, making obnoxious smacking sounds. "How's it going, butthead?" He mocked the boy.

  
  


"D--dad . . ." Marty sputtered, his heart racing in his chest despite the sedatives.

  
  


"I'll be out of your way in just a moment Mister Tannen. I just need to give the kid his injection." The nurse said as he turned around, prepped needle in hand.

  
  


"Just a second," Biff raised a hand to the other man, reaching into his pocket and putting out small vile filled with liquid. "Give him a dose of this instead." He handed the vile towards the nurse who eye balled it curiously.

  
  


Biff continued impatiently. "C'mon on, it ain't going to kill the kid. I've used this before. Just something my boys came up with for me." He sneered at Marty, who had a look of terror on his face, his eyes darting quickly between the two men.

  
  


The nurse shrugged and got a fresh needle, sticking it into the lid of the vile and filling it up. Biff stood back, arms crossed.

  
  


Marty began shaking his head frantically, muttering "no no no" under his breath as the nurse approached him. But there was little he could do as he was grabbed by the collar of his straight jacket and pulled forward, whimpering in submission as the needle slid into the side of his neck and was emptied.

  
  


"Oh, and take that thing off him too. We won't need it." Biff ordered the other man, gesturing at his straight jacket.

  
  


"Whatever you say, boss." The man complied, unbuckling the straps of Marty's jacket, pulling it off of him. "Call down the hall if you need anything, sir." The nurse said as he made his leave, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He knew Biff was going to be fine.

  
  


"It's been a while." Biff grumbled lowly, arms still crossed. He eyed the boy, seeing the effect of the injected drug quickly taking it's affect.

  
  


Marty kept his arms to his chest even with the absence of his straight jacket, hugging himself. But his breathing was changing, becoming a bit more erratic, his face and ears flushing a shade of pink. Marty felt his blood getting hotter in his veins, his vision slightly blurring. He could feel a heat slowly rising in his loins, and he moaned softly in response, diverting his gaze from his step father.

  
  


"What the . . . What the hell did you give me?" His voice was breathy and shaky.

  
  


Biff ignored his question, hungrily eying him. "You've lost weight since I last saw you. God damn, you look like your mother used to." He stalked over towards Marty, resting his knees against the mattress and hovering over the petite boy.

  
  


Marty turned his head sharply to the side to avoid his step father, closing his eyes tightly. He brought trembling hands to Biff's broad chest and pushed. But in his state, it wasn't very solid push. Hell, to Biff it just felt like he rested his hands there.

  
  


Biff licked his lips, climbing on top of Marty, urging him back on the bed. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Did you miss my dick?" He asked crudely as he press his hips against Marty's, who let out involuntary and considerably loud groan, lifting his hips to the stocky man.

  
  


He was having trouble thinking, his whole body on fire. He felt Biff's hand cup his chin, forcing him to look forward. "Do you have a kiss for your daddy?" He teased, leaning in as running his tongue along Marty's lips.

  
  


Marty instantly clamped his mouth and eyes closed, shaking his head back and forth.

  
  


Biff sat up, sitting in top of the boy, pulling his jacket off and throwing it to the side. "Your fighting is kinda cute. But don't over do it. I swear to god if you bite me this time I'll put you in a different kind of hospital."

  
  


Marty eyes opened into a thin slit, peering at his step father. He was reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a small bottle, which he happy shook at Marty.

  
  


He swallowed hard, knowing what it was. Lubricant.

  
  


Biff readjusted himself and Marty, pulling up his dressing gown above his belly. This also revealed Marty's penis, which was already erect thanks to the drug Biff had injected into him. The older man pulled his legs apart and lifted one up, resting it on his lower arm.

  
  


Marty grasped at the thin sheets underneath him. He hated himself as much as he hated Biff right now. Because he wanted it. The drug coursing through his blood stream was causing his mind to be docile and leaving him sexually wanting. He was barely holding onto his consciousness.

  
  


He felt the cold slick fingers suddenly press against his hole, causing him to tense up and thrash suddenly. "No--" he protested softly as he felt the thick finger slide inside of him, his body breaking out in a sweat as he gasped and arched his back, pressing his hips best he could towards that hand.

  
  


"God damn, this shit makes you a slut." Biff grumbled in amusement, adding a second finger, forcing more breathy sounds from his step son.

  
  


He grinned deviously, leaning back over Marty, pressing his his fingers deeply inside of the boy. He hovered over Marty's gasping face, holding eye contact with the boy's weak dilated eyes. "Kiss your daddy." He ordered.

  
  


Marty had lost himself. He raised his arms to Biff's neck and pulled himself up to the older man's lips, his tongue feverishly probing the other's mouth.

  
  


Biff groaned lowly, closing his eyes and devouring the young boy's mouth, fingering him with more excitement now. Their kiss was sloppy and loud, Marty filling his hands with grips of Biff's hair, pulling him in even deeper, raising his trembling hips to position Biff's fingers to press against his prostate.

  
  


He snapped his head to the side as Biff began to rub against his inner sweet spot, groaning surprisingly loud. "Ah, fuck! C--cumming . . ." He grumbled, slapping his hands against the mattress, his hips jolting and spasming as he ejaculated in a few short spurts onto his stomach and cotton gown.

  
  


As Marty quivered and shook from his powerful climax, Biff quickly withdrew his fingers and unfastened his trousers, letting the fall past his hips. He squeezed the bottle onto his dick, slathering it up and lifting up both of Marty's thighs and positioning himself between them.

  
  


Marty felt the thick cock of his step father force it's way inside of him. He'd forgotten how big it was, and lost control if his voice, each thrust forward causing him to loudly cry out.

  
  


He writhed underneath the broad man, pawing at his step father's shirt frantically, grunting like an animal. This fueled Biff's lust, and he slammed his hips mercilessly against the boy's delicate frame. Tears welled up in Marty's eyes and he felt a painful burning sensation building up inside of him, which became worse with each intense thrust of Biff's hips. But he didn't bother to try and stop the large framed man, he didn't even have thoughts going through his mind anymore.

  
  


Biff pushed Marty's knees up against the boy's chest and gave a few more quick thrusts letting out an exaggerated groan as he reached his climax, cumming deeply inside of his step son. He slowly pulled out and breathed out a heavy "whoa" when he saw his dick had a considerable amount if blood on it.

  
  


"Guess I gave it to you good."

  
  


Marty laid sprawled out in the bed, panting, his body still shaken. He groaned obscenities to himself, rolling into his side and gasping.

  
  


Biff glanced at the sheets and saw blood there too. He straightened himself up and grabbed his jacket from the floor, pulling it back on.

  
  


"That was fun, kid. Your nurse will be here to clean you up in a few." He walked to the door and opened it, turning back to the quivering boy. "I'll say hi to your mom for you." He added before slamming the door closed.

 


	3. Not on my Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Emmett Brown returns for his second shift with Marty McFly, only to find him worse off than he was before. And he's determined to do something about it.

Marty wasn't sure what time it was, he didn't have a clock available to him. But he felt he had been crying for hours. The pain that Biff had inflicted upon him this afternoon had become more apparent as the drugs affects subsided. It was a dull persistent ache within him.  
  
He knew that Doc's shift would begin soon, but he felt so ashamed and disgusted with himself he didn't want to look the man in the eyes. The thought "Why couldn't it have been with him instead?" crossed his mind. Tears started welling up in the corner of his eyes again and he blinked hard, having the straight jacket back on he couldn't even wipe them away. He did his best to rub his face on his damp pillow, small muffled whimpers coming from him as he did.  
  
Marty pushed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to produce some saliva. His mouth was dry and his throat sore from the constant sobbing from earlier. He glanced at his table, which had a plastic cup with water and a straw in it that his daytime nurse had tried to give him earlier that he had apathetically refused. He struggled to sit up in his bed, wincing from the pain in his backside. He looked at the window to see if he could see anyone, but it seemed quiet out in the hall. He scooted forward to try and reach the straw from the bed with his mouth, but it was too far. He stood hesitantly, making sure his legs wouldn't give out from under him and knelt down by the table to be eye level with the cup, leaning forward with his mouth open, clamping it around the straw. He pulled a few times, feeling the room temperature water on his tongue, gulping it down until the hissing sound of sucking mostly air from the bottom of the cup. Marty withdrew and sat down on the floor. He felt a warm wetness on his dressing gown against his backside.  
  
His face twisted as he was reminded of the earlier events with his step father and his face flushed. He muttered obscenities to himself and did his best to stand without the use of his arms. Looking down at the tiled floor he saw the small blood stain. He stared at it for a moment, sullen, feeling upset knowing people would see it and know what had happened to him. He toed at it to try to wipe it clean, but only streaked it across the tile. He grimaced with a sigh, returning to his bed. His sheets and dressing gown had already been changed once today and now it seems they'd need it again. He laid on his side and stared off into space, rocking himself gently back and forth.  
  
***  
  
Emmett Brown arrived to the hospital thirty minutes prior to his shift beginning, a messenger bag over his shoulder. Inside was a brown bag from a local burger joint with a healthy sized cheese burger and a can of Pepsi. He made his way to the staff break room, nodding politely to fellow staff members along the way. He placed the food and beverage in the fridge for later and put his messenger bag into his designated locker. He glanced around a few rooms, looking for Marty's daytime caretaker, but bumped into Richards first.  
  
"Oh, good evening Mister Richards." Emmett greeted the man. "Have you seen Marty's daytime nurse?"  
  
Richards pursed his lips forward. "I'm guessing he's still with the kid. He's been pretty out of hand today, freaking out and carrying on all god damn day. Glad I don't have to deal with him." He shook his head with a stupid chuckle and walked away, going about his business.  
  
***  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ, kid. I just want to go home." Marty's nurse complained as he ripped the blood stained sheets from the bed, throwing them in a laundry buggy he had off to the side.  
  
Marty glared at him from his chair, feelings of rage building up inside of him. He ground his teeth together, his jaw clicking.  
  
The nurse flung the new sheet over the small mattress, tucking in its corners sloppily. "There." He mumbled to himself, turning to the seething boy. "You better wipe that look off your face real fuckin' quick, McFly. I still have to change your stupid fucking clothes and I do not feel like dealing with your shit right before I leave." The man spoke quickly, pointing an erect finger at his patient.  
  
He approached Marty, pulling him to his feet roughly. All the feelings of anger and hurt from the day exploded out of Marty from that gesture and he snapped. He pushed his small body with all of his might into the large nurse and clamped his teeth down as quickly as he could into the man's shoulder before he could react to him, growling in his throat.  
  
"God DAMMIT!" The nurse yelled, trying to pull the boy off him, but he was biting down hard, and it just ended up pulling his flesh. He roared and punched the small boy in the side of his head, his jaw immediately releasing and sending him tumbling to the ground with a cry.  
  
Marty gasped and looked up only to see the nurse right on top of him, grabbing him by the collar. And before he could register what was happening he felt the man's closed fist connect with his cheek, sending Marty slamming back down against he tiled floor. He felt his consciousness start to waver in and out for a moment before subsiding, then he just laid there and began to weep pitifully.  
  
The nurse panted, staring down at the broken boy. He checked his shoulder, it wasn't bleeding, but he could tell it was going to bruise. He sighed harshly and grabbed the back of Marty's jacket, shoving him onto his bed with an angry grunt.  
  
"Thank fucking god tomorrow is my day off." He uttered to himself, pulling the laundry cart begin him and storming out of the small room and locking up behind himself.  
  
On his way down the halls, he came across Emmett, who was hurrying down the halls towards his patients room. He saw that Emmett was opening his mouth to say something and cut him off.  
  
"I'm late. I'm out of here. No fucking turn over." He snapped, not even stopping for a moment.  
  
Emmett stood stunned for a moment. Richards didn't seem to be exaggerating about today's events. He made his way quickly down the wide corridors and heavy doors towards Marty's room. Upon reaching it he peered in through he small window. Marty was laying on his stomach on his bed, he could see the dried blood on the back of his gown his heart was in his throat. He quickly unlocked the doors and let himself in.  
  
He slowly approached the boy, who he could now hear was sobbing softly. "Marty?"  
  
The gentle voice made Marty twitch and struggle to look over his shoulder. "Doc . . ." His voice sounded shaky. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the man and curled up into a ball. He felt embarrassed, cheap and anxious. His face throbbed from the two punches and he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to face the one person who showed him any sort of respect in this state. He didn't want the doctor to think ill of him.  
  
Doc's face fell. In just a few short hours the poor boy had been absolutely destroyed. He wasn't sure he could say anything to help the boy, he wasn't even sure had what happened to him. All he could think of to do was silently comfort him. He walked over to the chair and picked it up, bringing it over to Marty's bedside and placing it down. He sat and slowly brought his hand to the boy's tense back, rubbing up and down in a calming motion.  
  
The two didn't speak, and Marty didn't resist. He relished the soothing touch, finally letting out a soft coo. Emmett continued to stroke Marty's back, feeling his tension ease out of the boy as he relaxed, pressing against the wandering hand.  
  
"I'm sorry." The boy mumbled.  
  
Emmett titled his head slightly, unsure if he heard him properly. He continued caressing. "Can I take off your jacket, Marty?"  
  
Marty heaved a sigh and slowly rolled over onto his back, catching Doc's gaze and holding it, his eyes filled with sorrow. Doc saw his bruised swollen cheek, his puffy eyes and red nose, and frowned deeply. He looked down for a moment, trying to keep his own emotions in check and began to unbuckle the jacket, helping Marty sit up so he could slip out of the restricting garment.  
  
"Thanks, Doc." He said weakly, staring down at his own lap. He could feel the tears building up in his eyes again and he cursed inwardly.  
  
Without thinking Emmett reached an arm out and pulled Marty to his chest, holding him firmly, resting his chin on top of the boy's head. Marty stiffened for a moment, staring at nothing with wide eyes. He hesitantly raised his arms and wrapped them around the doctor, breathing in his manly scent as he buried his face into his chest before heaving out a long heavy sob.  
  
Emmett held the boy and let him cry. The tears wouldn't stop, and Marty wasn't even sure what he was crying about at this point. So many pent up emotions, so many painful memories, they all flowed out of him with his tears and audible sobs. He lost control and couldn't bother to try to keep himself together, openly letting out all of his feelings out with loud and breathy cries. Emmett's grip unconsciously tightened around Marty, closing his eyes tightly.  
  
Marty's sobs turned into words, repeating the same phrase over and over again between his wails. "I can't anymore."  
  
Emmett began slowly rubbing the pitiful boy's back and rocking him gently, kissing the top of his head sweetly, shushing him in between kisses. "Shh shh, I'm here now. It's okay. It's okay."  
  
Marty focused on the doctors words and felt himself calming down, believing it all really was okay. Now that he had found this man, something inside of him told him everything was going to be alright. He raised his head and leaned his face into the crook of Emmett's neck, squeezing him hard. The young boy took in a breath and leaned with his entirely into the old man, his sobs subsiding.  
  
Emmett continued to pet the boy's back, holding him until he felt Marty pulling away gently. He watched as the boy rubbed his eyes, sniffling a few times and sighed.  
  
"Thanks, Doc. I guess today just hasn't been my day." He laughed weakly in an attempt to show his morale wasn't completely dissipated.  
  
Emmett glanced around, seeing the dried blood on the floor, the bloody sheets. He reluctantly asked "What happened today?"  
  
Marty's hands tightened into fists, his knuckles turning white. "My, um, my dad came by this afternoon." He averted his gaze, biting his bottom lip.  
  
"Mister Tannen?" Emmett frowned, putting the pieces together of the blood stains and Marty's current emotional state. He felt a rage build up in his stomach, but he suppressed it for Marty's sake. "Is this sort of thing . . . " he cleared his throat before continuing. ". . . normal behavior from him?"  
  
Marty tensed up, he knew that Doc knew. And he hated it. He didn't want anyone to know, and yet everyone knew. His mother, the hospital staff, Biff's goons, and now Doc. Everyone knew what that man had do to him.  
  
He heaved a heavy sigh. "It ah, it wasn't the first time, if that's what you're asking." Marty's voice broke and squeaked as he talked.  
  
Emmett nodded shortly, his mind going over all the facts. Everything made so much sense to him now, about Marty and his anger and emotional instability. He was so young and was forced to take on all of this by himself. No friends or family to help him through it, just hateful people constantly surrounding him, abusing and neglecting him, making it worse. Even though he knew it last night, it was now cemented in his mind that he was the only one who could help this poor boy. And he knew there was only one way to do it.  
  
"Marty," he started, raising a hand to the young boy's face, softly pulling his face to look at him. He stared into Marty's large blue eyes, his face as serious and determined as it had ever been. "I'm going to get you out of here." 


	4. His First Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty had been kicked out of one boarding school too many, according to his step father, Biff Tannen. He needed to be taught a lesson, and he needed it to be taught hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place before Marty was sent away to the Psychiatric Hospital.

It had only been a few hours since Marty had arrived back home, being expelled from yet another boarding school. The 15 year old boy didn't respond well to authority, and in the strict schools his father had picked for him, he rebelled against the faculty members right away. He picked fights with his uppity classmates who turned their noses up at him. And despite the large donation that Biff Tannen made to the school, they were informed to give Marty McFly no breathing room and show no favoritism. It only took a month to get kicked out of this school, and Marty was almost proud of how quickly it happened.  
  
Loraine Tannen was a big ball of nerves, pacing frantically. She knew that her husband Biff would be home soon and he was not going to be happy about their, well, her son returning home yet again. She hurried from one side of their suite to the other, going no where in particular. Her vodka tonic sloshing in her hand, spilling over the rim every now and then.  
  
"Oh, Marty. Why? Why again? You're father is not going to be happy about this. Can't you just listen to people some times?" She said in a worried tone, pacing back and forth.  
  
"Relax, mom." The over confident teenager said from the lavish couch he sat upon, his feet kicked up on the coffee table. He thumbed casually through a magazine he had found there, lingering on the pictures of girls. "Dad'll be fine. He's gotta be getting used to it by now." He said with a smirk, feeling full of himself. He's taken a beating from Biff before, and it was becoming old hat to him. Sure, it hurt, but the pain was only temporary.  
  
"Marty, you know what your father said after the last time this happened."  
  
Marty didn't even look up from his magazine. "Ma, he's been saying the same thing for years. Fuck him."  
  
"Marty!" His mother snapped. "He is your father and my husband and I will not have you speaking that way!"  
  
Marty rolled his eyes and scoffed.  
  
His mother chugged from her glass, finishing off the contents before making her way to the to the bar and pouring herself another. A double this time. She was rightfully worried. She knew that Biff had been informed of Marty's expulsion and that he was already on his way. She was frightened for her son's safety, as well as her own. At the same time she was frustrated with Marty's attitude. She knew how short of a leash Marty was on with Biff, which Marty seemed to have complete disregard for, and that bothered her deeply.  
  
Moments later Biff barged in through the double doors, absolutely livid, both Marty and his mother jumping from the sudden noise. "Expelled!? Again? I swear to _fuck_ , this time I'm gonna kill you!" Biff shouted as he busted into the room, not stopping for a moment as he barreled towards the boy on the couch.  
  
Marty, who had shown so much confidence before now saw the severity of the situation. He'd seen his step father angry before, but this time he was down right terrifying. He popped off the couch and stumbled backwards, keeping his eyes on his step father, ready to defend himself best he could. But before he could react otherwise his mother jumped in between the two.  
  
"Biff, no! He's just a boy!" She pleaded, her drink spilling onto the floor as she grabbed and pushed Biff back with all of her might.

  
Biff growled and knocked her to the ground with great force. "Get your god damned hands off of me!" He barked.  
  
"Don't you touch her, you bastard!" Marty jolted forward in an instant, filled with seething rage, leaping at his step father and swinging wildly. He knew he was going to take a beating in the first place, and he hated seeing his mother mistreated by this poor excuse for a man.  
  
Biff didn't even stumble back from the assault of his small step son. He grabbed Marty by the forearm and twisted it behind the boy's back to hold him still. Marty winced and tried to stifle his whimper, doing his best to stay still as any small movement strained the muscles even more.  
  
"Biff, no! You'll break his arm!" Loraine pleaded from the ground, her empty glass still in hand.  
  
The large man twisted his step son's arm little by little, feeling the resistance. Marty stood on his tip toes and tried to lean with Biff's angle to alleviate the pressure, his face becoming red and hot. However his pride didn't let him beg to be released, he did not want to submit to his step father.  
  
"Loraine, go to your room. I'm gonna teach your son who's boss around here once and for all."  
  
Loraine stood up on shaky drunk legs. "Please, don't hurt him!"  
  
"I said get the fuck out of here!" He snapped back. "Or I swear you'll get the same." He twisted Marty's arm tighter, causing the boy to let out a reluctant cry.  
  
She looked to her son sadly and then nodded, scurrying off across the large suite to her room, shutting the door behind her. Marty watched with pained eyes as she abandoned him yet again, leaving him to the will of his abusive step father.  
  
Biff waited for her to leave and then walked forward to the bar table leaving Marty no choice but to go along with him, and forced him to lean over it. Marty grunted in surprise. "Let me up, god dammit!"  
  
Biff pressed his hips against Marty's backside as he leaned over him and reached for a bottle of whiskey with his free hand, biting the cork out with his teeth and taking a few swigs, wincing just slightly at its harshness. "You ever watch those nature shows about dogs, butthead?" He asked strangely, taking another healthy gulp from his bottle.  
  
Marty's face flushed as he felt the older man's hips pressed firmly against his own, his nose wrinkling at the smell of booze. "Wha, what the hell are you talking about?" Marty was confused. Biff wasn't making any sense to him. Usually by this point he would have just beat the boy to tears and have been done by now. But he was acting and talking weird all of a sudden.  
  
"Those alpha males sure know how to keep the others lowly dogs in check." He put the decorative liquor bottle back down, placing his his hand on Marty's hip and squeezing. "They assert their dominance by mounting the other dogs." Biff pressed his hips forward, grinding his half-hard manhood against the boy.  
  
Marty gasped at the foreign sensation, his body tensing up as the realization of what Biff had said began to sink in. "L--let me up! Mom! Mom help!" His voice was panicked, and he struggled against the man, only to have his arm bent against it's natural ways against his back. He choked out a breathy groan from the discomfort.

  
"Not so tough now, are you? Crying out for your mommy like a little bitch. Why don't you try begging me for mercy instead, huh? Maybe I'll stop if you're show me how submissive you are." He slipped a hand around Marty's front and skillfully unbuttoning the boys jeans.  
  
"Gah! Stop, stop it please!" Marty felt himself panicking, his heart racing in his chest. He did his best to struggle against his step father, but in result just ended up inadvertently pressing back against Biff's heated groin, causing Marty to let out a squeaky moan in response.  
  
"Someone seems a little eager. I always thought you'd turn out to be a fag." Biff chuckled to himself as he worked the boy's tight jeans and clinging purple underwear down his thighs, exposing his bare ass. He brought his fingers to his mouth and wet then thoroughly with saliva.  
  
Marty could just see Biff from his shoulder with his fingers in his mouth. He cried out when he felt those warm moist fingers pressing against his virgin hole. He gritted his teeth and bucked up, his arm burning in response. "N--no! Please! You said if I begged you'd . . . Dad, please!"  
  
Biff was elated with himself. This was much more affective than just smacking him around as he did in the past. He'd never seen Marty like this. He pushed his thick middle finger inside of the quivering teenager, relishing in his gasps and cries. Slowly he moved his finger in and out of the tight fevered hole, pushing it all the way to the knuckle each time.  
  
Marty laid his face on the bar, the new and foreign feeling was strange, but not entirely unpleasant. He laid completely still because it hurt too much to struggle, breathing hard and quick. His teenage hormones were confusing him even more. He hated this and he knew it, but he felt his penis growing erect from the stimulation.  
  
Biff licked his lips and breathed through his mouth as he fingered the boy. First and foremost this was to express dominance and punish his step son, but now that it was actually happening Biff was getting really into it. He was so tight, way tighter than any of the floozies he ran around town with. He'd of course fucked a few girls in the ass, but this was his first experience with another man. The idea of fucking a guy wasn't all that enticing to him, but having complete and utter control of someone and dominating them completely, especially his rebellious hot tempered step son, was getting Biff harder than he had been in a long time.  
  
"I'm gonna let your arm go, kid. But if there's a hint of you fighting me I swear you're gonna have a glass bottle upside your head so fuckin' fast." He spoke as he twisted his arm one more for good measure before releasing it, causing Marty to let out an exasperated groan.  
  
He brought his arm down to the bar table feeling it ache and burn, and he closed his eyes tightly. He felt conflicted. He had never felt so scared and uncomfortable. His usual method was fight or flight, but in this situation neither of those seemed to be a viable option for him. His stomach churned as he felt Biff pushing in a second finger, it started to hurt now.  
  
"Jesus, you're so tight. It's gonna be fun trying to get my dick in there." Biff laughed to himself, grabbing the whiskey bottle for one final chug before unzipping his trousers and releasing his swollen cock, rubbing it a bit. He pulled his fingers out of Marty and took a moment to build up some extra saliva in his mouth, spitting it into his hand and slathering his cock with his fluids.  
  
Marty quickly pushed himself up from the table, feeling Biff's meaty hand instantly clamp down on the back of his neck and slamming him with a grunt back down onto the table, holding him down. "Nuh uh uh." Biff tsked, pressing his hips forward slightly with his dick in his hand, rubbing the head of his cock up and down against Marty's entrance.  
  
It took Biff a moment to slowly squeeze the tip of his length into Marty; it was a tight fit, and he hissed as he entered him. Marty gasped and clawed desperately at the padded upholstery of the bar, tears welling up in eyes. It hurt. A lot. And it only got worse as Biff continued to push further inside of him.  
  
"Oh fuck, it feels like you're crushing me." Biff's voice was low and lusty, and he felt sweat beginning to drop down his face. "It's all the way in now." He stayed still, feeling the teenager clenching and twitching around his cock, it was strangely stimulating.  
  
Marty panted and squirmed underneath the man, trying his best to calm his breathing and relax his body, as he was finding that his natural instincts of tensing was making it feel a lot worse. His penis at this point had returned to a flaccid state. He crossed his arms over one another in front of himself and buried his face in them, suddenly groaning as he felt Biff rock forward a few times.  
  
Biff leaned into the teenager, rocking instead of pulling in and out just yet. His enveloped dick felt over stimulated and he didn't want to cum too quickly, as that would take all the fun and point out of this. He gripped Marty's neck firmly and used his other hand to push up the brunet's shirt up, glancing down so he could see as he slowly pulled out and back into the boy. He breathed heavily though his mouth, enjoying the sensual sight. He made crude and exaggerated sounds as he started to move his hips steadily.  
  
Marty bit down on his lip hard to stifle his voice, only letting out heavy breaths and muffled hums. He kept his forehead pressed against his forearms as he was rocked forward with each movement of Biff behind him. The burning pain had subsided, but the lingering feeling was just strange. Sometimes Biff would push into him at a certain angle though, shocking lewd moans from the teen as he felt a jolt of electricity spread through his loins. He felt his erection returning from the sensations and reluctantly reached an arm down between his legs and squeezing his own cock before quickly jerking himself off. The combination of Biff hitting his inner spot and stroking himself was overwhelming him and he lost interest in trying to stifle his voice.  
  
Biff couldn't help but let out a cruel shaky laugh as Marty feverishly touched himself. "I knew it." He slapped his hips harder against the teenager, both of them becoming more vocal with each thrust.  
  
Guilt, shame and disgust overcame Marty as he came in his hand, grunting out a few incoherent words. His moment of euphoria was cut short when he felt his step father drape over him, slamming himself against the teen as he reached his own climax, stringing crude words together.   
  
Biff gave the teen's ass a quick smack and pulled away from him. Marty sank down to the floor and his mind went blank. Everything that just happened . . . Did that really happen? Marty was dumbfounded and shaky, he glanced up at his assailant, tears in his eyes.  
  
"Unless you want to suck my dick, you should get up." Biff said as he looked down at the pitiful teenager, feeling no remorse for his actions. He was quite proud of himself actually. As far as he could tell, his plan went swimmingly. Marty seemed to be as docile as a lamb, and that was pleasing. He smirked inwardly as Marty did stand up and fixed his trousers. His expression hung low in defeat.  
  
"Can I . . . Can I go to my room?" his voice was so small as he spoke, his gaze focused on the floor.  
  
Biff chortled. "Yeah, get out of here." He grabbed his bottle of whiskey and headed off to his office, shutting the doors behind him.  
  
Marty watched him go, and took a deep breath as the latches of the door sounded through the suite. He glanced at the bar full of expensive liquor bottles and hesitantly picked one up, reading it's label. Vodka. He breathed heavily through his nose and took the bottle to his room, locking the door behind him. He always heard adults drink to forget things.  
  
He sat on his bed, and opened the glass bottle, curiously sniffing at the small opening. He immediately regretted smelling it, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "How the hell does mom drink this shit?" He mumbled to himself, and then he pictured his step father. That's how she drinks this shit. He closed his eyes and let out a long breath, bringing the bottle to his lips and choking down a few large gulps.  
  
He sputtered and coughed as he felt the heat in his chest and belly. He managed to keep it down though, wiping the moisture from his eyes. He laid back against his lush pillows, bottle in hand, and flipped on the television as a distraction.  
  
He stared forward, eyes glazed over. When he snapped back to attention, he felt hot tears had been streaming down his face. He choked back a sob, taking a swig from the bottle and sank into the bed.  
  
He had no one to help him. Not his siblings, they got out of here when they turned 18 and never even called anymore. His mother would just take Biff's side. Hell, she let it happen and didn't do anything about it. And the police would be no help. Biff owned them.  
  
He had absolutely no one who cared about him. And it had never been more apparent until this moment.


End file.
